


Paint me blue

by dashingswan



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, College AU, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 14:59:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5630779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dashingswan/pseuds/dashingswan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Swan + I’m an artist and you have a really nice face so would you mind if I drew you? AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paint me blue

He’s noticed her a few times on his way home from school. With her hair bound in a braid and her smile wide. She always walks alone, with hands in her pockets and the lost gaze in her divine green eyes. Her silhouette lingers with him longer then he intended, her striking face and posture ghosting around his mind for days. And her touch - _oh God, her touch_ \- his skin still tingles from the time she accidentally brushed his hand as they walked pass each other. She’s managed to sneak into every cell in his body already, and he doesn’t even know her name.

She must be an enchantress. 

* * *

 

There are many forms of art. And Killian has always been labeled an artist. 

Ever since he was a child, his painting and writing were always encouraged. So it’s not a great wonder when he gets into art school without any problems.

His favourite class is figure drawing. Capturing someone’s posture in any moment or pose brought him a strange amount of fulfillment. He felt as if he could spend days capturing those around him - the man with the thick jawline and a slightly asymetrical nose; the girl with the unusually long lashes and a smile glued to her face; even the kid carelessly running around the building on fridays with his kite.

He felt the need to draw all there is.

But he also adores painting. Contrasting colors clashing always makes every drawing express in a more vivid way. In his extremly limited free time, he loves combining the two. Often, he goes to the park and stares at the crumbling statue in it’s centre, sketching it. Then he colors.

Missing pieces are filled blue. Orange is all over the whole pieces. The impressive curves are colored green. The strictly flat lines are red. Sharp edges are painted a dark purple against the soft yellow ones. Wavy structures are black and the stable ones are left white.

Lately, the urge to paint those around him grew. Well, the urge to draw _her_ grew.

He feels quite privileged for being able to see her nearly every day. Their interactions may be brief, but they’re more then enough to leave him craving to paint her. Statues are easy to paint. They’re petrified and won’t care if someone puts them on a paper. But she will, and he’s far too nervous to approach and ask.

///

It’s Friday, and when Mythology _finally_ ends, Killian basically runs out of the building. He needs at least some sleep and more time to finish his homework before the due date. It’s raining, the bus is about to leave so he speeds up, not looking where he’s running when suddenly, he bumps (nearly knocks them both out) into an already yelling and swearing someone.

He’s ready to say a quick apology and continue running, but then his gaze meets hers - the blonde godess with haunting green eyes. Up close, she looks even more divine.

“I am so sorry, darling, I wasn’t looking and I was in a hurry.” he's impressed himself by his sudden ability to construct a sentence.

But the ability soon fades, because her face radiats a spectrum of wonders, and he’s found himself under her spell. He touches her hand to help her get up, and the tingles are back in their full strength within his body. She’s staring at him too, lashes gently fluttering as raindrops land on them. He’s not fully aware of the hand in his until she lets go, stepping back. He immideatly misses the closeness.

“I can see that.” she replies almost frustrated, both hands wiping the dirt off her jeans.  

“I’m truly sorry.” he repeats, and she looks back up.

“I know, I am too. For being rude, I mean. I just had a really long day and I need to get home.” her voice is a lot softer now and she even manages to put force a smile.

“Tell me about it,” he chuckles “my classes ended and I just missed my bus.”

“You live far from here?” she asks as they slowly start to walk away.

“Not really, just two stations down. I’m simply too lazy to walk when there’s a bloody damnation about to be unleashed from hell.” 

It makes her laugh, and the sound of it quickly finds a path to carve itself into his brain. He sneaks a glance of her and the curve on her lips, glued to her face, makes him proud of his words that are honestly just a mask covering awkwardness. She is really astounding. Raindrops soaking her hair and clothes most definitely don’t make the awkwardness slighten one bit.

“Dramatic much? It’s just a storm.”

“Well, I hate it.” he laughs as well. “I’m Killian by the way.”

“Emma.” She firmly shakes his hand and grins widely.

There’s a hitch in his breath, and he struggles with the voice in his head telling him to shut up and everything else aching to speak. So for once, he lets the urges speak, and asks

“Would you care to grab a cup of coffee with me? There’s a shop just down the street.” his vioce is quivering and he can’t help it.

All of his hopes break at once when she sighs and closes her eyes before responding

“I’m so sorry, but I can’t make it tonight. My roommate will strangle me if I don’t show up in like ten minutes. Rain chek?” she tilts her head with an apologetic smile. 

“Sure,” he smiles “whenever you can. You’ll be able to find me here, swearing at the weather.”

"Well, good to know.” Emma laughs again. They continue walking for a few minutes, pouring rain filling the space silence created between them. what’s even more awkward is Emma waving at him as she turns  Killian hates himself for overstepping, feeling as if he violated the tender brief moment between them. And selfish. He also felt selfish. He simply couldn’t get enough of that smile and all he could think about is luring it on her face as many times as it is possible.

///

During the weekend, he realizes he left his mind on that street corner. Her voice and laughter echo in his ears and he still feels an emptiness in the hand he held hers in. Unique blonde curls wrapped his thoughts and all he hopes to is seeing them again soon.

_Enchantress, indeed._

///

Emma is sitting on the edge of the park fountain, going over her notes, when a familiar laughter ruins her focus. She turns her gaze and she sees him - the dark haired, wide grinning, clumsy dork with eyes as deep as the ocean. Saying he looks great would be an understatement. He suddenly looks at her, and she’s more then embarassed for already staring, so she just waves in his direction and he walks up to her.

“Hey there.” he grins and his eyes land on the stack of papers in her lap “Finals?”

"Yep.” she nods.

“You seem exhausted, darling.” he adds, sitting next to her.

“I am. Law school has that effect.” she sighs wearily and turns to look at him “I could really use a cup of coffee though. Care to grab one with me after classes are done?”

“I would be delighted to.” So delighted he actually worries he might squeal if she doesn’t stop looking at him like that. That damn gaze filled with many restless wonders relaxing in the calm green.

“Good.”

///

He finds her standing on their corner (yes, he loved calling it _their_ corner), wrestling with the numerous books unable to fit in her bag. Just as she is about to drop her Constitutional Law book, he catches it and hands it to her.

It takes her a moment to acknowledge his presence but as soon as she does, she says “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome.” he responds “Hope you didn’t wait too long. I got held up, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay, I just got here.”

“Alright then. Shall we?” he asks, hand gesturing forward.

“Mhmm.” she murmurs and walks along.

The coffee shop is not far, but the road to it gives them enough time to talk about how their day went. Emma is quite certain she will fail her final and Killian tries his best to cheer her up and convince her that it will be fine. He fails miserably, because Emma is a very stubborn person. Between her sighs and bursts of frustration, he manages to slip in a joke that she can’t help but laugh to. She smacks his shoulder, saying that she’s really worried how this might ruin her overall success. But he can’t help it either, her laugh is far too precious to not be heard.

Once they get to the shop, he learns her favourite order - cinnamon latte. They sit on the booth next to the window, and the bright moonlight illuminates her face in a way he’s never seen before. Her lips seem more pink then usual and her skin seems more pale then it actually is. Her hair radiates bright gold, and when he looks at her with _that_ grin on his face, the pale cheeks turn slightly red. She sips her coffee greedily, and the doughnut she ate way too quickly left a chocolate trace on the corner of her lips. His thumb carefully wipes it away, but it may or may not linger there longer then necessary first.

She asks him about his day as well, and soon gets a bit more fascinated then intended once he starts talking about art. She just stares amazed, giving him that look, when he continues talking. Neither of them have a clue how suddenly it’s midnight and the shop is closing.

///

It doesn’t take a long time for the coffee shop and late night talks to become their thing. Now, in worst cases they meet up at least once a week and simply talk. Emma never hears the end of ‘I told you so’s when she passes her exam with more then enough points.

Third week of their ‘strictly platonic dating’, as Ruby calls it, is the first time they hugged and then kissed cheeks goodbye. He still remembers that moment in it’s full awkwardness. It was brief thankfully, because her arm was too stiff from the cold and it pressed his shoulder too hard to remain longer then ten seconds in the same position. His ice cold nose accidentally nuzzled against the crook of her neck and she shrieked a little. And when they tried to move away, she realized her bracelet got stuck in his sweater and they both just stood there laughing in an upcoming blizzard.

But after that, things kind of became more natural. Often while he’s standing in the park, she sneaks up to him and wraps her arms around his shoulders from the back. He turns around in her embrace and hugs her back, kissing her cheek. Not too long after that, he invites her for a cup of coffee at his house. She agrees.

Another week goes by and only then he remembers the distant urge to paint her. Instead, all he craves now is her presence and company. But, his professor has told him that he needs more practice to break through the repetetive sketchings he keeps drawing.

 _Bring me something inovative_ ,he says.

So the time for the awkward _“This will sound weird as fuck, Swan, but-”_ conversation has arrived.

Surprised and shocked isn’t even nearly enough to describe his face when she agrees to let him paint her.

///

Killian first intends on drawing only a portrait, but at the start he decides that she is far too magnificent to not be painted whole. Emma’s sitting on his desk, her palms pressed against the hard wood table and herlegs hang from it. Smile is static on her face and he intends to capture every moment.

He starts with her face, drawing the basic shape of a head. Then he draws in the lips, remembering the way his thumb swayed across the tender skin. After that, he moves upwards, drawing in the nose and then the deep eyes that never fail to kidnap him into a strange world. He then draws her hair. Every curl, every single small strand of it - he is eager to put it on a paper. But Emma suddenly moves, and the angle he’s been drawing escapes his gaze.

“No, no, Swan, just turn back around, I’m almost done there.”

“Like this?” she asks, shifting and moving her head in the other direction but not where it’s suppoused to be.

“No, a bit more to the left,” he suggests, putting the pencil behind his ear. But he’s aware her neck is probably stiff by now, so he adds “if you can, of course.” 

“This?” she tries again, still not properly.

He walks over to her, unawarengly standing in between her legs, and places his hand tenderly on the side of her cheek. They stare at each other for a moment, lungs squeezed somewhere in the (no) space between their pressed bodies, until he decides to cough himself back to reality. He turns her head, slighty, positioning it.

“Just like that.” he says, right before moving away quickly.

Then he continues drawing her, now moving to the rest of her body - the curves of her hips and the valley of her breasts. Then her arms - those clumsy two arms that once found themselves stuck around his body. He still chuckles at the memory. He loves those arms.

When he finishes sketching, the hard part arrives. Painting. He felt that none of the ways he could paint her would be good enough. So he decides to paint her as she is - the gorgeous, pale faced and pink lipped enchantress wearing a velvet jacket.

Because sometimes, figures put on a paper are simply perfect the way they are. 

There are many forms of art, and she is a masterpiece.

///

It takes him three days after the painting to gather the courage and finally ask her out. There’s a trace of ‘finally’ in her ‘I would love that’ and he couldn’t be more excited if he tried.

///

The way her skin feels underneath his touch proceeds to amaze him even after many months of them dating pass. His body gains warmth when it’s in contact with hers and it’s always overwhelming. Slight shivers ghost over his spine each time she embraces him. Her lips feel like petals against his. Constantly gentle and soft. Unique. He could spend an eternity kissing them.  

Her hand in his first felt like cold, dark purple. Often untouchable around the most delicate parts. But when he held her carefully enough times in his, it started warming up. Cell by cell. Now it’s a glowing yellow and she never lets go.

Her words were red in the beginning. Short and poor and distant. Surrounded by thick curtains that hid the ones she actually meant. It took a long time for the red to reincarnate into green.

Their first interaction was black. Then the few upcoming ones were painted gray. Now, they’re more of a pale grey, slowly turning completely white.

When they met, neither truly knew what hid underneath those precious smiles and the deep eyes. Neither of them knew why there was so much purple and red and black. There’s many mysteries still hiding, but they tend to solve them.

But he did solve one mystery, and it’s the most precious one of all -

_she is orange and she paints him blue._


End file.
